Land of Permanence -Cling to the Present-
by Asa Turney
Summary: Which is the fear? Change, or no change?


"Hey, Kino."

"What is it?"

"The place we're going looks like a dead end."

The motorrad sped past a fork in the road, the last fork in sight until the dirt path turned to cement and terminated ahead in a single, walled settlement.

"That's all right," the young rider suggested. "Once we're done there, we'll come back to this crossroads and head north."

"Retrace the same road?"

"Ah, don't make it sound like that," Kino responded with a mild shrug. "That's not what I like to do, but we can't just pass a town up."

* * *

At the gate of the settlement, the two were met by an overwhelmingly ordinary man in his mid-twenties: raven-haired, clean-shaven, of average build. His only peculiarity was his large, stark-white coat through which the contents of countless pockets bulged around the waist.

"It's you!" He also selected a rather peculiar salutation for someone with whom he had never before spoken.

The traveler lifted riding goggles over a tuft of dark hair and returned a greeting. "Hello. We're hoping to stay here for–"

"Ah!" the man interrupted, holding up one hand to signal a pause and using the other to reach into a pocket on his left. From it he withdrew a small black book pinned shut by the clip of a ballpoint pen. "Please tell me your names, so I can make a record of it."

"Is that like a guestbook?" the motorrad spoke. "I'm Hermes!"

The other hesitated for just a brief second before adding, "I'm Kino."

"Excellent!" Retracting the nib with a decisive click, the man replaced the pen along with the notebook in a designated one of his many pockets, which he then neatly patted down. "This is my job here, one of the most important jobs if I do say so myself. I handle information, and ensure that everything remains consistent."

"…Oh." Sensing the worker's enthusiasm, Kino obligingly offered some reaction but couldn't muster much more.

"Now in due turn, I'll tell you my name as well. It's Caine." He delivered a dignified nod. "I'm very glad to have officially met. And I'm very glad you made it here, because you'll _never_ find a more safe, consistent, and organized town."

"Well, that's–"

" _Consistency,_ " he repeated for the third time, nothing if not consistent with his own opinion. "Isn't consistency a wonderful thing?"

The man was clearly more interested in that opinion than the opinion of the traveler, so Kino kept quiet and allowed him to answer himself.

"When you think about it, inconsistency is the only real enemy in the world, and we've overcome it here."

"Well, we appreciate the introduction," Kino took the chance to speak. "Since you keep the information, do you know if there's a hotel where we can stay?"

"There are no hotels," Caine replied, "but there is a vacant house next door to mine and my wife's. You're more than welcome to stay there."

"What? A whole _house_ just for us?" Hermes piped up. "How lucky!"

"That sounds…comfy," Kino noted. "It's really a little more than we need."

The man smiled broadly at them both. "No, please– make yourselves at home."

* * *

On the second day of their stay, they made their rounds of the land's various shops, which delicately lined a single street. While limited in number, all exuded the quaint feel of a tightly-knit neighborhood, of which the travelers were consistently – quite consistently – treated as a natural part.

Most noteworthy was their visit to what appeared to be a library. The building had no door, only a door-shaped opening in the front wall, through which the shelves full of books were plainly visible.

Kino parked the motorrad directly outside and stepped in the narrow doorway first.

"That's no fair," Hermes whined. "Can't I come in?"

Upon hearing the voice, a well-groomed bookkeeper in a solid-colored gown peeked out from behind one of the shelves. "Oh, it's you!"

Of the motorrad's request, she took a moment to think.

Then she pleasantly replied, "If you can fit through, I suppose there's no rule against it!"

"That's a nice rule!" Hermes squeezed carefully through the opening until he stood on the welcome mat inside.

"Kino, is it? And Hermes," the bookkeeper addressed them by name, without a need for introduction. In response to their surprise, she clarified, "I know all about you two! From my husband, Caine."

Kino wondered how the other man could possibly know _all about_ a pair of travelers he'd just met, but decided to play along. "In that case, do you think you can recommend a book for us?"

"I can, in fact," the woman answered, unfaltering, and motioned to the particular bookcase from behind which she had emerged. "Here are kept the memoirs of some very important townspeople."

Kino selected one hefty volume from the top row. "Maybe I'll check this out."

"No checking will be necessary," the librarian happily replied. "It might as well have belonged to you from the start! Please keep it."

"Really?" Terming her business a _library_ , it seemed, had been a misjudgment. "What if someone else wants to read it?"

"You're the one who picked it up, so it belongs to you. There's no need for it to change hands."

"I see…" The traveler briskly thumbed the corners of hundreds of thick pages, then laid the tome down with a thump on the back end of the motorrad.

"Oof!" Hermes groaned at the sudden weight. "Boy, you guys don't have any editors here, do you?"

"Hermes." Kino cast him a glance with no particular severity. "Manners."

"We don't, in fact," the woman answered, unfaltering. "I'd say that editing is an unnecessary job. Only the writer knows what's best for a book."

* * *

On the night before their departure, Kino sat on the edge of the comfortable bed in their roomy lodging, looking over the book.

The motorrad leaned against the bed's footboard. He likely wouldn't have been interested in the book, even if he were able to read it. "Don't tell me you're gonna read the whole thing."

"Probably not," Kino replied. "I don't think there's enough time."

"No one's got time for a book like that. These people must think there's all the time in the world."

"Yeah…" Gently pressing down on the front cover, Kino stood and carried the book to an empty shelf on the opposite wall of the room.

"You're just leaving it here? Didn't the lady say it was yours?"

"Right," said the traveler, "so it's my choice where I leave it."

"Oh, I get it." Lacking other topics of conversation, Hermes thought he might as well ask, "So, what was that book about anyway?"

"It was what the bookkeeper said: a memoir of some sort. Like someone's diary, unedited. Except…" The traveler returned to the bed, choosing a new spot on the mattress, somewhere to the right of the dent made by the first sitting. "All the entries had the same date."

"Wha…?"

"They seemed like different _days_ , but only just barely. Most were about pretty ordinary town life, without a lot of variation."

"That's weird," said the motorrad bluntly. "Who wants to read about the same day over and over? It seems like this whole town is a little stuck in the past."

"Not the past," Kino countered. "I think, technically, they'd prefer to call it living in the present."

"That can't be right," Hermes argued. "I thought living in the present was about being simultaneous."

"Hm." With a furrowed brow, Kino ventured to interpret, "…Spontaneous?"

"That's what I said."

"No it's not."

"Well, it's what I meant," the motorrad insisted.

His stubbornness was met by a short laugh from his companion. "Hermes, imagine if _you_ had to write a book without an editor." Smiling, the traveler rethought the possibility. "Actually, that might be pretty interesting."

* * *

"It's you!"

The man, Caine, who had greeted the pair on the first and second day, approached them again on the final day before their departure. For such a detail-oriented person, Kino observed, his job seemed oddly unspecific– to be able to keep tabs on two tourists without being caught up on in other tasks. At the same time, to dismiss him as anything less than a busy man would have been unfair. His expression, while pleasant, betrayed a heavy burden.

Caine gestured toward a building along the western wall. "You appear to be headed toward the quarters of our queen."

"I wasn't," Kino admitted. "I didn't know there was one. But I'd like to see her if I could."

"You have a _queen_?" asked Hermes. "In such a small town, wouldn't you call her a mayor or something?"

"Oh, she's nothing at all like a mayor," the informer insisted. "I'm sure you'll understand once you meet her."

Unlike the open doorways of the town's other buildings, the door to these quarters was well-guarded, and the straight-faced guards observably took their duties quite as seriously as did Caine himself.

Once inside, Caine guided the two down a long, open hall overlooking a glass enclosure on the right. An extraordinarily elegant-looking person, the very picture of storybook royalty – assuming she was in fact a person and not actually a picture – sat behind the glass, like an exhibit in a museum.

"She is beautiful, isn't she?"

Since he asked, Kino could answer honestly, "She is."

"But," added the motorrad, "is she always behind glass like that?"

"Always," said the man with certainty.

A few attendants at her side wiped any every bead of sweat from her brow and cleaned every blemish on her skin, as one might polish a statue.

"Who chose her as the queen?" asked the traveler.

"She wasn't chosen. She was the first person to set foot here, and so she has always set the rules."

"She looks so young!" Hermes commented. "So this place must still be fairly new."

"I wonder," said Kino, "if she has heirs that will take over after her."

"After…" Caine's voice tightened, redirecting Kino's attention from the queen's polished visage to the man's suddenly tensed face. " _After her,_ " he solemnly echoed.

"What's the matter?" asked the motorrad.

"…She is the queen," he answered resolutely. "The only queen we need."

* * *

"Excuse me! Where are you going?"

"This is my last day here," explained Kino. "I'm a traveler, so I have a lot of other places to go."

"What was that?" Caine said dumbly, somehow unable to process the perfectly clear report.

"We're leaving now. We really appreciate your time in showing us around."

"That…" As he slowly took in the words, the man's kind face grew stern. "That won't be possible. Your name has been listed in the town register."

"Ohh– is that what that guestbook was?" Hermes whispered.

Kino glanced from Hermes back to the man. "I don't suppose it's as easy as erasing it."

"We can't erase anything," he replied automatically. "You're on record now, and the record never changes."

"I have an idea!" Hermes lightly suggested. "Instead of erasing, you could just cross us out with a little line. So you'll know we used to be here."

"No. That– That would be ugly." The sternness on the man's face morphed again into distress, eyes sinking painfully deep into their sockets. "How could you say such a thing? How could you _want_ to be crossed out?"

"Sir…"

"Don't make my job difficult." His hands hovered shakily around his many pockets, finally landing on the one farthest back, one that was designed not to be reached. "Don't make my job UGLY!"

The man drew a pistol from the pocket, though before he could properly aim Kino had drawn the Woodsman in instantaneous response.

There were a handful of villagers scattered about town, and each one of them froze where they stood in light of this scene– the informer and the traveler in a sudden standoff.

"Wh–" With a final turn of the man's roulette of expressions came one that was truly, purely shocked. "Wh-why…?"

"Sorry," replied Kino. "You reached first."

"But why are you resisting? People don't leave here once they come. There's no need to."

"I stay in each place for three days and two nights," was the simple response.

"That doesn't make sense!" Caine objected. "What's the point of hopping around to different places once you've found a place like this? You must have come here because you wanted stability. Because you don't want anything to change. That's what we ALL want. Consistency. Permanence. It's completely ideal."

"I stay in each place for three days and two nights," Kino repeated.

"S-so what? We don't even count days here. We don't let the days pass. We have c-complete control over time. Don't you get it?"

"I stay in each place for three days," Kino repeated once again. "That's always been my rule."

Counterarguments exhausted, the other gunman only blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, it's a very consistent and permanent rule. Would you make me break it?"

Caine clenched his teeth, and his trigger hand began to tremble. "Your rule is… _Your_ rule is…"

"I know, my rule is different." Without a shot, the traveler's weapon slipped swiftly back into its holster, its job completed. "To be honest, I'm not really sure what you ever meant by consistency."

* * *

"Wow, Kino. Not like it hasn't happened before," Hermes mused along their ride back north, "but I didn't expect that nice man to get violent."

As they left the last land behind, turning sharply north at the old crossroads, the narrow road beneath the motorrad's wheels began to grow steadily broader.

"No? I'd had a feeling it might come to that." Kino explained, "After all, it's the most permanent solution."

"Huh. If you were suspicious at all, you didn't show it."

"Well, I also had a feeling he wouldn't really shoot."

"How come?" asked the motorrad.

"It's like I said, Hermes."

"What, just a feeling?"

Kino chose to stay silent, but thought– _After all, it's the most permanent solution._


End file.
